What a glorious, glorious morning. I love this time of year more than any other. Well, I actually like cold frosty and sunny mornings. As I was driving to work, I was listening to my Hernan Cattaneo CD, (when I have worked out links, I will send you dear reader to his webby - his mixing is a joy - I reckon he is as good, if not better than the old masters Sasha and John Digweed) and beholding the rainbow iridescence of the really high ice clouds in the inky blue sky.
All I want to do in weather like this is be outdoors, either sailing or flying. A shortage of crew (as ever) means that I shall instead be flying tomorrow, instead of communing with the Solent.
There isn't much energy in the sun at this time of year, so I doubt I will be soaring (plus I have only just gone solo - so I am still learning how to centre in thermals and find lift)
I am desperately looking forward to it - it is almost as good, and sometimes better than sex. The fact is that gliding, is however, a largely solo activity, so in some ways it is like an awful lot of sex that an awful lot of (ab)users of the electric interweb get.
The difference between Gliding and Sex though is one of opposites. Learning to Glide is a dual activity, and when have developed the skills of coordination and air-awareness you get to go solo. Sex starts as a solo activity, and if you are lucky, good looking or rich, you get some dual control action. The two disciplines diverge here. When you go solo in a glider, you use everything you learned when you were two up. I am not sure there are transferable skills for the other activity.
There is an obvious gag about joysticks and cockpits, but I shan't make it.
Chap Sticks - where two's company and three's a readership. Hat tip to Max Headroom for that gag.